


you know how they say

by smartlike



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 14:28:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smartlike/pseuds/smartlike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Willow goes to "magic rehab" and meets an unlikely friend there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you know how they say

**Author's Note:**

> Written for kovsky, kyrafic, and kel.-- brunch is apparently more dangerous than we suspected.  
> Thanks to kel. for Neville and the beta. Title courtesey British Sea Power.
> 
> Buffy/HP crossover. Diverges from Buffy canon post-s6, diverges from HP canon post... book 6, I guess? The outcome of the fight against Voldemort is not the same, anyway. No one in the story dies, but allusions to a major character death that happened pre-story. Check the notes for who if you want to know before reading.
> 
> Originally posted on http://www.obsessivetendencies.net/am/

On the first day, Willow spends the majority of her time being surprised and slightly disappointed that she's still alive. Somewhere deep inside she knew that Giles wouldn't actually have her killed, but she thought maybe someone else, someone over Giles's head, someone who hadn't known her when she wore pigtails and corduroy overalls-maybe that someone would override his stiff British version of pleading and just put a stop to everything.

Instead, she moves on to the second day and she looks around at the institutional beige walls and can't really believe that there's actually a rehab program for magic, let alone that they sent her there. Four days ago, she arrived in London and spent the next day on a train full of cheery British families with chipper blond children and sunny accents and wished they would all just shut up. Two days ago, Giles checked her in at the front desk and signed some paperwork, smiled sternly and said, "Good luck, Willow. I'll see you in soon."

She can't have any visitors for thirty days, but she knows that even if she could, Giles would be the only one. None of her friends are going to come to Britain. She doesn't think about the fact that they probably wouldn't come to visit even if she were at magic rehab in Sunnydale.

*

"So, I-" Willow pauses and looks around the room. Most of the other girls are all staring at the ground or their fingernails, eyes empty and definitely uninterested in hearing about Dawn's broken arm. The girl across from her, though, is looking directly at Willow, her lips pursed and eyes narrowed. When Willow pauses, the girl raises her eyebrows. Willow wants to hurt her and the girl smiles like she knows. 

Willow finally looks away and finishes. "-I said I was going to stop, but." Willow shrugs. "Um, obviously, I didn't." Or she wouldn't have ended up here.

Everyone in group nods and the counselor thanks Willow for sharing and says they'll meet again tomorrow. Mostly, what Willow wants is to tell Xander how much it's exactly like every drug recovery movie she's ever seen. What she feels, but knows that she could never tell Xander, is how each completely boring day makes her want to cast a thousand spells. She watches the floor, until all the feet disappear from the circle.

"That girl sounds annoying." The British accent is crisp and a little dry, like the girl needs a sip of water or something. The tone is pushy and arrogant, which Willow is starting to think might just be a British thing.

Willow turns around, "Dawn?" Willow pictures the big blue eyes and remembers how Dawn spent hours every morning in the bathroom, no matter who was waiting.

The girl pulls at her short curls. "I guess. The demon broke her arm?" Willow nods. "Yes, well, it sounds like she deserved it."

Even though she knows it's not a real memory, Willow thinks about helping Buffy make Dawn's eleventh birthday cake and how mad Joyce was to find yellow frosting all over the kitchen. 

Willow inhales. "She was just a kid." 

The girl's laugh is even drier than her voice, a scraping that's soft and yet harsh enough to make Willow wince. The girl rubs at her wrist, pulls her long black sleeve down further. "Weren't we all?"

Willow doesn't get to ask what that means before the girl has left the room.

*

Day thirty-one and Willow carefully combs her hair and tries on three different sweaters before going to the lounge to meet Giles. She hugs him. He's stiffer than usual and he pats her shoulder blade twice before moving away. She wishes she'd chosen the green sweater, and also that she hadn't bothered to look forward to this.

"How are you, then?" Giles sits on the edge of his chair and his eyes dart around the room.

Willow shrugs. "Better, I think." She hasn't done a spell in thirty-five days and five days ago her counselor gave her a cake, but called it a 'pudding.' No matter what anyone called it, it tasted like sawdust and reminded her of cookies Tara once made for her. Willow squeezes her eyes shut briefly at the rush of pain that thinking of Tara brings, but forces herself to focus so she doesn't alarm Giles.

Giles nods. "The staff says you're making progress." He nods again. Willow struggles not to nod as well-she doesn't want him to think she's mocking him. "Once this program is over, we'll move on to a different type of facility." One more nod.

Willow hopes the new facility will have better food and maybe some American tv, but she catches herself and pushes the hope aside. "That'll be nice." She's trying to sound cheerful and she doesn't know how well she's doing. Probably not well at all, if Giles's face is any indication. She wonders if asking how everyone else is doing would make her sound more or less cheerful, but knows she isn't going to ask either way.

"Do you not like it here?" Giles's eyes narrow and he looks around the visitors' lounge as if he's worried it's just a front for a hellmouth-esque torture organization. Willow wonders if it would be a problem if it were and almost laughs. "It was very highly recc-"

"No, no. It's fine, Giles. I just meant that it'll be nice to move on to the next step." Willow concentrates really hard on meaning what she's saying. She's realized in the last few weeks that willing herself to sound sincere is a very little bit like magic. She hasn't mentioned this to her counselor.

Giles nods again, and adjusts his glasses. "Oh, yes, then. It's in-"

"You can't keep _saying_ ; that, Hermione!" A short boy with dark hair who looks inappropriately pale in a way that reminds Willow of vampires stands up across the room, hands raised. Sitting across the table from him is the curly-haired girl who called Dawn annoying. Willow has only seen her a few times since that day-she stopped coming to group. "It's not right!"

The girl-Willow guesses her name must be Hermione-pulls at her sleeve and stares coolly up at her visitor. "It doesn't mean anything in here." Her voice is quiet, but it carries. Willow doesn't know what Hermione is talking about, but it still makes sense-after years of every word carrying potential magic, she feels like nothing means anything in this beige place. 

"But _you_ mean it." The boy brings one hand to his neck and rubs at a long scar that disappears under his black robe. "You need to put this behind you, you know that, right?" He doesn't get an answer and he sighs. "It's still an unforgivable, even if it doesn't work." 

At that Hermione stands and glares. "I know." She glances over at Willow, quirks her lip up in a smile so quick Willow could almost convince herself it didn't happen, and then stands up in a way that seems to increase her height by inches. "But I don't need to be forgiven just because you all decided."

She turns to leave the room and pauses at the door. "And you can tell Harry I said that."

Willow continues to stare at the door where Hermione had been until Giles clears her throat.

"Do you know her, then?" He looks nervous and Willow wants to reassure him that she does need to be forgiven, that she still cares what they all think.

Instead, she shakes his head. "She's not in my group anymore." Willow watches as Hermione's visitor is ushered out by an apologetic counselor. She hears a few words - "death," "potter," "war"-but not enough to matter. "So, you were telling me about the next step?"

*

"Fag?"

Willow jumps a few inches out of her seat. "What?"

Hermione steps in front of her and holds up a cigarette. She grins and it's terrifying. "Smoke?"

"Oh." Willow blinks and looks around the library. All the books are shiny and new, paperbacks barely cracked, and no Latin anywhere. It's more like a Borders than a library, really. She hasn't been outside yet today, so she shrugs and stands up. "Okay."

Hermione lights two cigarettes and Willow can practically feel her irritation at having to use a lighter. She hands one to Willow and inhales from the other. Willow doesn't smoke, but it's something to do here, so she's been trying-enough so she doesn't cough when she inhales anymore.

"Your dad was here again this morning?" Hermione's accent and the perfect ring of smoke she exhales bring thoughts of Spike and Willow pushes them away.

She shakes her head. "Not my dad."

Hermione nods and doesn't follow-up, instead asking, "You're from America, then?"

Willow exhales, resisting the urge to attempt a smoke ring of her own. "California," she says.

Hellmouth, CA to be specific-Willow wonders if Hermione knows anything about the Hellmouth. She does remind Willow a bit of Wesley and for a second she imagines Hermione as a Watcher-gone-wrong.

"Long way for a bit of counseling."

Willow nods. "I don't know if they have magic rehab in California. Though, they have a lot of addictive personalities, so maybe."

Hermione smirks. "'Magic rehab?' That's an interesting way of putting it." She tosses her cigarette and watches as it arcs to the ground. "So, what did you have to do to end up across the ocean in 'magic rehab'?" Willow blinks and Hermione lights another cigarette. Willow's barely smoked her first. "I mean, getting that annoying twat's arm broken doesn't seem a capital offense."

Hermione stares at Willow, calmly; just inhaling, exhaling, and waiting.

Willow stares back and then shrugs. "I killed someone."

"Just one?" When Hermione asks a question, she sounds as though she already knows the answer and it makes Willow want to smash her head against the wall behind them. Willow wonders how the counselor would feel about that.

Still, she isn't quite able to break Hermione's gaze. "Um, thanks to my friends, yes. Only one."

"Yes, of course." Hermione drops the second cigarette to the pavement, orange embers scattering near her shoes. "I can tell you're very grateful."

Smoke is still wafting from Hermione's discarded cigarette when Willow turns to watch the door close behind her.

*

"I could never get the Latin right for that, though, and constantly ended up conjuring the wrong demon." The girl-Willow thinks her name is Sarah-laughs a little and shrugs. "Guess it's better for everyone they sent me here."

The girls are in the Dining Room talking about their favorite spells and Willow suspects it's not really counselor-approved conversation, but it's been raining all week and everyone's completely bored. Willow's bored too and even though no one else tried to destroy the planet, some of the girls have interesting stories. There's a Watcher's daughter that Willow has lunch with sometimes who set her school on fire when she got expelled for cheating, and a girl from France who was caught magically influencing the outcome of some sport Willow couldn't quite understand-they play Scrabble during rec time, and Willow's never sure she's not cheating.

The girl Willow talks to most is a witch named Emily who reminds Willow of Cordelia, probably because she's rich and spoiled and isn't really someone Willow likes at all. But she knows a lot of stories about British witches in general, and Hermione in particular, so Willow's been eating dinner with her.

Willow and Hermione have a cigarette every day after Willow's group and before the dinner that Hermione skips six nights a week. "I like the corned beef sandwiches," was the only explanation she gave when Willow asked why Hermione came to dinner on Tuesdays. They don't really talk, especially not about Hermione, and Willow doesn't know why, but she's interested.

Emily interrupts Sarah and starts her own story. "So my parents are Muggles and they didn't believe a word of it, so I never had to go to Hogwarts-thank god!" Willow has gathered that Hogwarts is a magic school of some kind. It seemed weird at first, but then, she is in magic rehab, so. "It's much more fun to learn spells on your own-no restrictions!"

Willow tunes out; she's heard Emily's story two or three times over now and doesn't really care what her favorite spell is. Between the details of Emily's drug-dealing boyfriend and her tendency to use magic to get him out of jail, Willow's managed to piece together bits of Hermione's story. Apparently, there was a war between different groups of witches-the Big Bad being a guy named Volde-something-and Hermione was on the good side and then went bad. It all sounded like an all-too-familiar story about love and death and getting even in a big way. 

In her individual sessions, Willow's been talking about Tara and Warren-she inhales slowly as she thinks about him, ignoring the anger and trying to focus on good memories of Tara. Willow remembers a random moment, sun shining in the bedroom window, Tara leaning against the pillows laughing. Willow blinks and shakes the memory away, trying to focus on the girls around her.

"You know there are about twenty better ways to do that spell?"

Willow turns her head and Hermione's standing at their table, managing to somehow frown and smirk at the same time. She clearly isn't a fan of Emily's either.

"I didn't, but if the brilliant Hermione Granger says so, then I guess it's true." Emily's voice is mocking, drier than her usual soft British accent, but still nothing like Hermione's.

"Indeed." Hermione starts counting off on her fingers and reciting things in Latin. The Watcher's daughter looks alarmed and glances around the room, probably looking for a counselor. Hermione notices and sighs. "You know none of these work in here, yes? You can't do magic in," she cuts her eyes to Willow, who smiles a bit in spite of herself, "magic rehab. They have charms."

"I know, I just-" The girl shakes her head and stands up with her tray. "I'm just finished."

"You know, Hermione, dear," Emily stands as well and steps back from the table. "If you were really so brilliant at all this, perhaps you might have found a better way to stop the war than switching sides and throwing around unforgivables. I mean, any git can do that."

Hermione blinks once, then leans forward and sneers at Emily, "It's really too bad about the charms they have here or else I'd be happy to show you how many things you can really do with just those few curses." The tone of Hermione's voice is even and almost pleasant, but it makes Willow shiver and she remembers darkness flooding her eyes and radiating from her skin. 

When Hermione turns on her heel and leaves the room, Willow doesn't even glance at Emily before she follows.

*

After sixty days, Willow is leaving tomorrow and she carefully stacks all her sweaters in her suitcase, leaving the green one on top of the desk. There are two letters there, too. One is to her mother, all cheery and fake and oh my goodness, London is amazing. Which Willow thinks is ironic considering, of everyone she knows, her mother would probably be most excited by the idea of all this counseling. The other is to Xander and she still isn't sure if she should send it. But, her counselor said that expressing herself and apologizing to those she's hurt is important. She thinks Xander is a safe first step.

She turns when there's a slight tap on her door. "Yes?"

"You're leaving, then?" Hermione's voice, crisp and knife-blade sharp, even muffled by the door.

Willow thinks of the preparations to bring Buffy back-the knife sliding into the deer's throat so easily. Her counselor says it's important to remember the spells because repression only hides the problem. Willow has convinced herself that this is true and that she doesn't enjoy these memories.

"You can come in." Willow watches the door open and nods at Hermione when she enters. "Tomorrow."

Hermione pulls at the curls that have grown out to her chin over the last two months. "Next step time?" 

After the day in the Dining Hall, Willow started talking during their cigarette breaks, things she wasn't sure she could tell her counselor-the way Warren's terror still sometimes makes her smile if she's not paying attention, the way Buffy and Xander's disappointment is the only thing that hurts as much as Tara being gone, how every minute of every day she misses doing magic. Willow suspects Hermione thinks she's a complete loser, but she exhales her smoke rings and she listens and she shows up at Willow's door every day like clockwork.

Willow nods and sits down in the desk chair. Hermione drops to the floor and crosses her legs at the ankles, leaning against the desk. "Bully for you." 

Willow would like to think that the bitterness in Hermione's voice is for her, but it's not. "You could leave too, if you just-" Willow trails off when Hermione laughs.

"Willow, you tried to end the world." It sounds somehow smaller when Hermione says it. Not that anyone else really says it, but Willow can practically hear them all think it. "What, exactly, is the step after that?" 

Willow knows as well as Hermione that she has no idea, so she says nothing, just lifts and refolds the green sweater. When she's done, Hermione has stood up. "You cut your hair," she says, reaching forward and tentatively touching the red strands that hang in Willow's face.

"Next step, fresh start." Willow tilts her head a little into the pressure of Hermione's hand. "It seemed like a Buffy thing to do." It seems like ages since someone touched her in a way that didn't seem afraid. 

"His hair was red, too." Hermione exhales and Willow smells ink and chocolate. "Not like this, exactly, but." She says it like something forgotten a long time ago that she's just remembered.

"Your war's been over for what, two years now?" Willow thinks that's something they have in common-these epic battles that no one will ever write down in a history book. "When are you going to move on?"

Hermione frowns. "They want me to care what they think." Her hand is hot against Willow's forehead and her sleeve slips a little. Willow can see the scarred edges of some sort of tattoo on Hermione's wrist. "Harry thinks that if they can fix me, it'll make Ron's death okay. If I let them forgive me, they can forgive themselves for not doing absolutely everything they could."

Willow sits absolutely still and Hermione's standing in front of her, but all she sees is Tara. Smiling and dying and then completely still. Willow blinks, clears the images from her eyes, and hopes that for her somewhere in the next step vengeance will stop making sense even if it never will for Hermione.

"I don't need to be forgiven because I don't think I was wrong. I just think I failed." Hermione's eyes are always clouded, but right now, they seem bright. "Again. And the only person who can forgive me for that is dead."

Willow grabs Hermione's wrist and she winces. "So you have to forgive yourself."

"Like you have?" The words feel like they have mass and Willow feels a stinging sensation on her skin. Her eyes widen in shock. "Because he would want me to?" Hermione pulls her wrist away and stares at the design that Willow still can't make out. "That's the thing about dead people, Willow-they don't want anything." Willow can feel heat radiating from Hermione.

"Hermione, was that," she resists the urge to whisper, "magic? How did you--?"

Hermione's laugh is emptier than it was when they first met. "How do you know it was me? You're so sure you're cured?" She leans in and presses her cold lips to Willow's. She shivers, but her lips part a little. The kiss is dry and brief, though, and Hermione is at the door before Willow realizes she's moved.

"Best of luck with that next step." And Hermione is gone, a cracking sound echoing in the air behind her. Willow blinks and bites at her lip.

There's shouting down the hallway and Willow closes the door against it, moves back to the desk and thinks maybe she should wear the yellow sweater tomorrow instead-it was Tara's favorite. She glances at the door where Hermione isn't anymore and she was right, dead people don't want anything, but Willow has to have a reason, she needs to move forward. She pulls the yellow sweater from her suitcase and holds it to her chest.  The room still smells like chocolate.

**Author's Note:**

> Ron died during the fight against Voldemort in this universe.


End file.
